I glance back at Ashley, who’s watching us intently, then take a few slow, hesitant steps toward the Buick and hand one of the duffel bags to Eli.
He sets it in the trunk, carefully, then takes the second bag and does the same.
He pulls a license plate from the corner of the trunk, along with a screwdriver. After doing another one of his causal visual sweeps of the parking lot—empty cars, empty pickup trucks, empty tractor-trailers—he bends down and starts unscrewing the current New Hampshire plate and replaces it with one from Connecticut.
When he finishes and sets the screwdriver and old plate in the trunk, I say, “You really came prepared.”
He shuts the trunk and turns to me, his eyes dark and hooded. “I should hope so. I’ve been planning for this day for the last thirty years.”
thirty-three
They kept driving north. They took the parkway up toward Albany, then headed east into the Green Mountain National Forest.
Ashley rode shotgun again, Melissa’s father driving, Melissa’s brother in the backseat. None of them spoke. At first John tried asking again what was going on, and again Eli refused to say more than a few words. Finally he promised he would soon explain everything.
“When?” John asked.
“After we pick her up,” Eli said. Then, more to himself than to John or Ashley: “Assuming she managed to get away.”
He, of course, did not specify who “she” was, though at this point Ashley didn’t expect him to. She had become numb to the entire thing. Like she was no longer living inside her body. Everything that was happening—all the events of the day and all that was happening now—she saw from outside of her body, outside of the car, like her spirit or soul or whatever it was that contained her true essence had slipped through her skin and was just hanging out beyond her window. It was there, somehow impervious to the strong wind as the Buick sped forward at sixty miles per hour, just hanging out there and watching her as she sat quietly in the passenger seat, watching the excess of businesses and houses start to fade away into more and more trees as they entered the forest.
This time of night, the trees thick around them, the moon and stars weren’t nearly as bright, and the Buick’s headlights burned a path into the thickening darkness.
They eventually came to a road leading deeper into the park. There was a chain blocking access, and a sign stating what the park hours were and that there was no trespassing.
Eli stopped in front of the chain, extinguished the headlights, and glanced at John in the back.
“Can you move the chain for us?”
John issued an irritated sigh and stepped out of the car and hurried over to the chain. He unlatched one end and took it over to the other end and waited until Eli had driven forward, and then he went and latched the chain to its post again and climbed back into the car.
“If some park ranger ends up interrogating me,” John said, “I’m pointing the finger at you.”
They continued, slower now with only the parking lights to guide their way. The darkness here was even thicker, and a few times the Buick’s tires veered toward the edge of the drive onto the loose gravel and dirt, forcing Eli to readjust. Finally they arrived at a small parking lot, a pair of pavilions standing up on a slight hill, a swing set and slide and other playground equipment stationed off to the side.
Eli parked in front of the playground and turned off the ignition. Here the silence was just as thick as the dark, if not thicker. They listened to the engine tick.
“So,” John said, drawing out the syllable, “should I even bother asking?”
Eli didn’t speak, but his face was tilted toward Ashley. She blinked, her soul or spirit or whatever having returned to its place within her skin, and noticed his gaze was fixed on the glove compartment. With a gesture, he asked, “Mind opening that?”
She clicked it open, a soft light inside illuminating an owner’s manual, a folding map, a small flashlight, and a pack of cigarettes.
“Ah, good,” Eli said. “I was hoping I hadn’t taken those out. Mind handing me the pack?”
They were Parliaments. She handed them to Melissa’s father, who immediately tore off the cellophane wrapping and opened the box and slid out a single cigarette. He went to close the box, paused, and offered it back to her.
“Care for one?”
Ashley, always a social smoker, had felt the sudden craving for nicotine the moment her eyes alighted on the pack in the glove compartment. The need was strong, especially after today, but for some reason she found herself shaking her head.
“Suit yourself.” He glanced in the back. “Mind letting me borrow the lighter?”
“You can have it,” John said, placing a gold-plated lighter in his father’s hand.
“Just want to borrow it, that’s all.”
Eli stepped outside and closed his door and stood against the car, attempting to light the cigarette. He couldn’t seem to get the lighter to work at first and kept shaking it until finally it produced a small flame.
The silence inside the Buick continued. She had the feeling John wanted to say something, maybe a quip to try to relieve the situation, but he didn’t speak. She could hear him breathing. She could hear herself breathing and held her breath, worried it was too loud. Finally that craving become too much and she took a cigarette from the pack Eli had set on the console and opened her door.
John opened his door as she was shutting hers. She didn’t wait for him as she circled the car and met Eli on the other side. He didn’t need any verbal prompt and already had the lighter out, ready for her. Again it wouldn’t light on the first try and he had to shake it a few times before he finally managed to produce enough of a flame so she could get the smoke started.
John came around the car from the rear, slowly, his hands in his pockets. The temperature was still cold but she didn’t feel it as much as before. Maybe it was the cigarette. Maybe it was just that she still felt numb to the whole situation.
“Thanks,” Eli said, holding the lighter out to his son.
John kept his hands in his pockets. “I told you, I don’t smoke.”
“I know.”
“I don’t need the lighter.”
“But I want you to have it.”
“Why?”
“I told you, it’s my lucky lighter.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you take it and put it in your pocket to humor your old man.”
John didn’t look like he was going to budge. Then, finally, he withdrew a hand and took the lighter from Eli and stuffed it in his pocket.
Despite Eli’s head start on her, Ashley finished her cigarette first. She retrieved another from the car and this time had to have John try to use the lighter. Unlike his father, he was successful the first time around. They stood there then in silence, the soft wind rustling the tops of the trees, insects chirping in the leaves and bushes. Ashley eyed the playground and broke away from their small silent group, her shoes crunching the grass until she reached the mulch. She went straight to the swing set, lowered herself onto one of the swings, the rubber seat freezing.
She wasn’t quite sure why she had decided to leave the group. Obviously it was temporary. Whatever was going on, she knew it was unlikely she would be leaving these two any time soon. By now she had accepted the fact that Jeff was indeed dead, and that in many ways it was her fault. She had accepted that she might never return to her apartment, that she might never see Rex again. She wondered how long he would fare without her giving him new food and water. He was a resourceful cat, but he was still a cat, and there were limitations that she knew he would not be able to overcome.
Ashley was so lost in her thoughts, staring out at the dark trees, that she wasn’t aware John had approached until he cleared his throat.
“Mind if I join you?”
She took a deep drag on the cigarette and shook her head.
He sat on the swing beside her, his hands first wrapping a
round the chains and then letting go. “Damn, that’s cold.”
Ashley said nothing. She saw Eli had gotten back into the Buick.
John said, “You want to hear something pathetic? I don’t think I’ve ever swung on one of these before. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen people do it a bunch of times, but I can’t remember a time when I actually sat down to do it myself, even when I was a kid.”
“You don’t like your father much, do you?”
“Not really. He and I have never had what you would call a loving relationship.”
“What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“What happened between you two?”
“He was never around. For as long as I can remember, he was just never there. Him or my mom. They put us in boarding school when we were little, but not all of us in the same schools. They split us up for some reason. On holidays we sometimes saw our mother, but that was it. We never saw our father, so when we did you can imagine how little love we had for him.”
“Melissa said he killed himself.”
“That’s what I heard, too.”
“But obviously he didn’t.”
“Doesn’t appear that way, no. How close were you to my sister?”
Ashley drew the last puff and dropped the cigarette on the mulch. “Like I told you, we were best friends.”
“Melissa was a good sister. I wish I had been nicer to her.”
“When was the last time you talked to her?”
“To be honest, I can’t remember.”
“Did you lie to me before, back at the bookstore?”
“What do you mean?”
“The email.”
He hesitated a beat, then nodded.
She asked, “How bad was it?”
He had been moving back and forth slightly on the swing but now stopped and really looked at her for the first time.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It was all a lie.”
• • •
They waited for another two hours—already well past midnight—before a car materialized out of the darkness.
Eli had run the engine on and off to keep the heater going. He and Ashley had since taken another two smoke breaks. John had joined them because he had the lighter but he didn’t speak. Neither did Eli. Neither did Ashley. Somehow they had come to the simple conclusion that now was not the time to ask and answer questions. That time would come. None of them knew when, probably not even Eli, but at some point soon.
Ashley didn’t know when it happened, but a gun had appeared in Eli’s hand. He watched the car approaching, his other hand on the door handle.
The car slowed and pulled up beside them. Ashley couldn’t see much, other than there was just one person inside, the driver.
Eli held the gun for another several seconds, watching the car as it parked, and then placed it back inside his jacket.
The other car’s door opened and the driver hurried around the rear of the car, headed directly for the Buick. The back door opened and the figure slid into the backseat.
“Everything went smoothly?” Eli asked, his eyes now on the rearview mirror.
“Yes. It took longer than I would have liked, but I managed to lose them.”
Ashley was turned slightly in her seat, trying to take in this new person. It was still too dark, despite the fact her eyes had adjusted to the dark hours ago. The only thing she could make out was that it was an older woman, almost her mother’s age.
Then, directly behind her, John groaned.
“Jesus Christ, Mom”—his voice an incredulous whisper—“you’re involved in this shit, too?”
thirty-four
They ordered coffee and waited in silence until the waitress brought the pot and filled first Zach’s mug, then Hogan’s, spilling a few drops onto the table.
“Oops,” she said, flashing crooked teeth, “sorry about that. Let me go get a towel.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Hogan said, reaching for the napkin dispenser.
“Long night, you know? I’ll be back to check on you soon.”
She blew a strand of hair out of her face and deposited a handful of creamers before trudging down the row of booths, the diner moderately busy for one o’clock in the morning.
Hogan said, “I wonder when the last time was she had an orgasm.”
Zach ignored the creamers and packets of sugar and took a sip of the coffee black. It was bitter but strong, just the way he liked it.
“Did you see the indentation on her ring finger? She must take it off every shift thinking if she flirts enough, she’ll get bigger tips. Then again, maybe her and her husband split up, or maybe he died recently. What kind of panties do you think she has on right now?”
Zach glanced over his shoulder and watched the waitress standing farther down the row, the pot set on a table, her pad and pen in hand as she took an order. She was in her late-forties, early-fifties, frizzy hair up in a bun, too much makeup.
“Honestly?” Zach said, turning back to his coffee. “The last thing I want to think about is what kind of panties she has on right now.”
Hogan stared back at him for a moment, his face complete stone. Then, slowly, it cracked and he began to laugh. He shook his head as he opened two creamers and dumped them in the coffee. He asked, “When was the last time you slept?”
Zach took another sip. “Been at least twenty-four hours.”
“How much longer do you think you can go before you crash?”
“I’m not going to crash.”
“Everyone crashes eventually. Besides, the trail has gone cold.”
“It hasn’t gone cold.”
“You lost Eli.”
“We have a pretty good idea where he’s headed next.”
“But nobody knows for sure. For all you know, he could disappear again.”
“He’s not going to disappear,” Zach said, forcing himself to keep his voice low and in control. The last thing he needed right now was to be second-guessed. It was bad enough when Tyson had done it. He wasn’t about to let Hogan do it, too.
Hogan hadn’t yet taken a sip of his coffee. He kept stirring it slowly, like there was a science to it, an art. He said, “This whole operation is starting to spiral out of control.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Well,” Zach said, “good thing I don’t answer to you. In fact, what are you doing here anyway? This isn’t a games operation.”
“You’re right, it’s not. But there’s an FBI agent who’s been asking too many questions. They want me on standby in case he needs to be taken care of, and when I heard about your troubles, I volunteered to assist you until I’m needed elsewhere.”
“How thoughtful of you.”
“Listen, Zach, word is going to reach the top very soon, if it hasn’t already. Your best bet is to shut this down as soon as possible.”
“What exactly do you think I’ve been trying to do all day? Our intel was completely off base. Eli was already one step ahead of us.”
“You still managed to pull off the bit with the daughter.”
“Yes, and that worked out perfectly.”
“So then what”—Hogan held up his hands—“everything just fell apart today?”
“Are you saying I’m responsible for what happened?”
“No. But unless there’s a resolution in the next twenty-four hours, they’re going to blame somebody, and who do you think they’re going to blame?”
Zach took another sip of his coffee. “The whole thing doesn’t even make sense. What’s the point of it anyway?”
“You know what the point is.”
“Matheson.”
“That’s right.”
“You know this for a fact?”
Hogan just looked at him.
Zach said, “I’ve had men die today because of this mess. Hell, over a dozen civilians died, too.”
“Since when do you care about civilians?”
“Eve
ry time a civilian dies, there’s a chance of exposure.”
“You know we don’t have to worry about exposure.”
“It could happen.”
“It won’t. This whole thing has gone on this long, hasn’t it?”
The waitress reappeared, her pad and pen at the ready, that strand of hair once again hanging in front of her face. “So what I can get for you gentlemen?”
“You know,” Hogan said, giving her his brightest smile, “we haven’t even had a chance to look at the menu yet. Mind giving us a few more minutes?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be back.”
When she departed, Zach said, “I’m not even hungry.”
Hogan opened his menu. “You should eat something.”
“The cop.”
“What about the cop?”
“It raises too many questions. There’s going to be an investigation. The press is going to eat it up.”
Hogan sighed, scanning the specials. “Fucking idiot never should have been there to begin with.”
“Are you saying this was my fault?”
“No, I mean he shouldn’t have been assigned as a cop. Too much of a cowboy mentality.”
“It may never have come out in any of the preliminary tests.”
“Still, he should have known better. Got way too ambitious, forgot his part in this whole production. Any news on Marta?”
Zach shook his head.
“What about the rest of the kids?”
“What about them?”
“Have you taken them out yet?”
“All but David Smith.”
“Why?”
“He’s the closest on this side of the country. If Eli goes for any of them next, it’ll be him.”
“You need to shut this down as soon as possible.”
“You already said that.”
“Yes, but there’s one key piece I’m leaving out.”
“What’s that?”
Hogan turned toward his briefcase beside him on the booth. He opened it and withdrew a manila folder and handed it to Zach.
“We found out who the girl is.”
Zach took the file, suppressing the urge to announce that Tyson had already told him but wouldn’t say who it was. This was his operation, after all. He didn’t like the idea of Tyson or Hogan or anyone knowing more than him.
Legion Page 13
